


The Force is in the Details

by Redrikki



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, JediFest, Rogue Robin, Slavery, roguerobin020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: Continuation ofThe Force is in the Details.  Slavery is as much a state of mind as it is a bomb under her skin. The chance cube lands on red and Shmi struggles with being free.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Force is in the Details](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211555) by [PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/PoliticalPadm%C3%A9). 



_"Human…male,” the Mistress’s majordomo muttered to himself as he logged Anakin into the household accounts. “Value…10 wupiupi.”_

_For five, glorious days, Anakin had been Shmi’s and Shmi’s alone. Slave transmitters were expensive and no master wanted to waste one on an infant that wouldn’t live out the week. Now Anakin’s sixth day had come and it was time to give him up._

_The majordomo tapped his stylus against his datapad. “Needs a name.”_

_“Anakin, sir,” Shmi said quickly, before he could saddle her son with something terrible. “I had hoped to call him Anakin.”_

_He pursed his lips as he considered. “Acceptable,” he said, and wrote it down. Shmi closed her eyes as he prepared to inject Anakin’s transmitter. In her son’s last free moments it was better not to watch._

 

Warm sunlight flooded the Council chamber, but Shmi shivered under the cold eyes of the Jedi. Twelve of their most powerful masters sat in a lose circle around her. The last time she’d been studied this intently, she’d been up for auction. They sold slaves naked on Tatooine, but Shmi felt more exposed now under the Jedi’s otherworldly gaze.

“Afraid, you are,” Master Yoda observed. With so much riding on this meeting, Shmi was unsure how to respond. The wizened little master reclined in his chair like a Hutt on his throne, but his long ears drooped as if her fear pained him. Cruel master or kind one? Should she play up her terror or apologize for it? Anakin would have known what to do. He’d always been so good at reading people.

“I am worried for my son,” Shmi explained. “Master Jinn was able to secure my freedom, but Ani is still a slave.”

Just like that, the Jedi dismissed her. Shmi could see it in their faces as they shifted their attentions to Qui-Gon. “Why have you brought this woman here?” Master Mundi demanded.

Qui-Gon stepped forward beside her, chin up and back straight. “I have discovered a vergence in the Force around this woman’s son.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder and gave it a brief, comforting squeeze. “I request Council funds to purchase the boy and bring him here for training.”

Hope swelled in Shmi’s chest as the Jedi stirred with interest. “How old is the child?” Master Billaba asked from behind them. Shmi turned to find kindness in the other woman’s dark eyes. An ally, perhaps.

“Anakin is nine, nearly ten, years old.” They should like that, older children could work more, but Master Billaba’s shoulders slumped in disappointment instead. It didn’t make any sense. Shmi looked to each Jedi in turn, searching for support but finding rejection instead.

“Too old,” Master Yoda tutted, writing her son off faster than Watto with a burning engine. Qui-Gon should have freed Anakin. If only they could meet him, they would take him for sure.

“He’s a good boy,” Shmi insisted, “a hard worker.” She could go on, but it was clear they weren’t listening. He was too old, apparently, and no amount of mechanical aptitude or piloting skills would fix that. If Anakin had been born in the Republic, they would have snatched him up ages ago. Of course, if Anakin had been born in the Republic, Shmi wouldn’t have to stand here selling her son. 

“He has midiclorian count over 20,000.” Qui-Gon’s smug announcement was met with stunned silence. “Shmi, tell the Council about Anakin’s father,” he ordered, seeking to press his advantage. 

“There was no father.” Shmi dutifully recited the strange story of Anakin’s conception. Everyone on Tatooine assumed she’d been raped and, in a way, she had. As much as she loved her son, Shmi had never asked to become pregnant. 

Master Windu steepled his hands and leaned back in his chair. “You believe this boy is the child of prophecy, don’t you?” He studied Qui-Gon through narrowed eyes. “The Chosen One who will bring balance to the Force.” 

Qui-Gon nodded. “I do,” he said simply, raising his chin like a challenge. “With the return of the Sith, I believe training Anakin to be of the upmost importance.”

Masters Yoda and Windu exchanged a look which seemed to last forever and Shmi could scarcely breath. This was the moment when her son’s fate would be decided. There was nothing more she could say or do to sway them. She closed her eyes and let the chance cubes fall where they may.

“No,” Yoda rapped his cane on the floor, “too old the boy is.”

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, but Shmi silenced him with a touch. “I accept your decision.” It had always been a long shot anyway. Qui-Gon had gambled and lost, but Shmi had one last move to play. “I’ve heard my whole life tales of Jedi compassion. I understand why you won't take Anakin, but will you help me win his freedom?”

The masters shared another look, but this time it was Windu who spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “but your son is where the Force wills him to be and the Jedi are not in the business of freeing slaves.”

 

_Anakin sat at the table with a small assortment of junk spread out before him. “What are you making?” Shmi asked, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder. He was always bringing home broken things to resurrect to usefulness. Some things he built they kept, but most they gave away or sold when Watto gambled their food money._

_“It’s a transmitter detector,” he said and Shmi’s blood ran cold._

_She wrenched him around to face her and give him a hard shake. “Do you know how dangerous this is? Watto will kill you if he finds out.”_

_“He can’t blow me up if I find my transmitter first,” Anakin insisted. “When I’m finished, I’m gonna free everyone.”_

_Oh, her sweet, brave boy. Shmi pulled him into her arms and began to cry. He didn’t understand and she hoped he never would. Slavery was so much more than just bombs under skin. It was a beautiful dream, but he could remove every transmitter Tatooine and they’d still be just as helpless._

 

The Naboo left Coruscant and Shmi and Qui-Gon left with them. Back on the ship, Shmi headed to the galley just to have something to do. She didn’t recognize any of the foods or spices she found there, but she had plenty experience making due with what she’d been given. When Padmé found her, she was chopping vegetables for the stew. 

“I’m surprised to see you here.” They’d been on the ship less than an hour, and already the girl was wearing a new outfit. Naboo must be a wealthy place if even a simple handmaiden had so many clothes. “I thought you’d be with the Jedi.”

Shmi hacked a root vegetable with a bit more force than necessary. “They don’t want Anakin and they aren’t in the business of freeing slaves.” She told herself she wasn’t angry with them. Disappointed maybe, but no. If the Jedi had ever cared about slaves, they would have helped long before now, she knew that. It was just that Qui-Gon had gotten her hopes up. She had gambled away every good thing in her life for the slimmest of possibilities and all she had now was a freedom she never asked for. 

Padmé snorted, her mouth twisted into a surprisingly bitter smile. “If there’s one thing all this has taught me, it’s that the Republic can’t be counted on to help anyone. We have to help ourselves.”

Shmi shook her head and set the knife down. “Wrong lesson.” Everyone for themselves was just the sort of thinking that kept people from doing the right thing. She squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “We have to help _each other_.”

“We help each other,” Padmé agreed and reached for Shmi’s abandoned cutting board. Her chopping was awkward and uneven, but Shmi wasn’t about to turn down an extra set of hands.

 

_Anakin’s pod jumped the track and Shmi bit her knuckles to keep from screaming. She wanted to tear her eyes away, but she forced herself to watch. He’d been hurt racing before, but she would lose him this time for sure. She could feel it._

_Sensing her fear, Qui-Gon gave her a comforting squeeze. “Relax,” he whispered. “Trust in the Force. He will win.”_

_Shmi’s hands tightened around the datapad. She didn’t care if he won, she just wanted him to live. Still, he was right. There was nothing she could do but trust in the Force. He probably meant it to be comforting. Instead, it was just one more reminder of how truly powerless she was._

 

If Coruscant had been a wonder of lights and people, then Naboo was a paradise of water and green. Even the air felt damp. No wonder the Trade Federation wanted it. No wonder the Gungans and Naboo were willing to fight and die to keep it.

Shmi would not be joining them in their battle, not when she’d just be in the way. She’d never held a blaster, but she knew her way around a bandage. The Gungan healers were setting up an emergency med center and as soon as the army left, Shmi would join them. Win or lose, a lot of beings would bleed today.

“We will be triumphant,” Padmé, or rather Queen Amidala insisted. Blaster out and chin up, she looked like the hero of a story. She had already won the battle in her head. “After I free my people, I swear I will free your son.”

If only saying it made it so, but the galaxy didn’t work that way. This plan was a gamble and, for all her promises, Shmi might never see the girl again. Just a few hours ago, she might have hugged Padmé. She bowed to the queen instead and hoped for her safety with all her heart.

Qui-Gon caught her eye, looking as calm and unflappable as ever. “Put your trust in the Force and all will be well,” he said with an easy smile.

Trust the Force. Was that the same Force that raped her and willed their child remain a slave? Shmi sighed, and let go of her anger. There was no sense in keeping it. Qui-Gon had taken her from her child and Padmé had lied, but they both meant well. Maybe the Force would protect them and maybe it wouldn’t. They would die or they would win, but like everything else in her life, it was out of her hands.


End file.
